“So there’s no appellate work or anything like that.”
“Federal appellate, no.” Mary knew that Judy loved the intellectual rigor posed by federal questions that went up on appeal, like cutting-edge constitutional issues, but Mary’s clients didn’t present and couldn’t afford that type of litigation. “But if you brought in that kind of work, that would be great.”
Judy hesitated. “That’s the kind of work that comes to Bennie, and she gives to me.”
Mary shifted forward. “I know, but Judy, with your credentials, you could attract that kind of work.”
Judy looked at her like she was crazy. “Mary, take a look at me. Do I look like the kind of person people want for a lawyer? I dress crazy and I like it. I don’t want to change. And I’m not a business getter, I never have been. I don’t like schmoozing people, going to the bar conferences and the cocktail parties. It’s just not me.”
Mary listened to her without interrupting, for once, because she had never heard Judy talk about herself this way.
“I finally found my niche, too. I wrote three briefs for the Supreme Court last year, a petition for certiorari, and two amicus briefs, which is probably more than any associate in any big firm. And the cases come from all over the country, on the sexiest legal issues ever. Important issues. Voting rights. Election funding. Intellectual property. Antitrust. Environmental cases.”
“Wow,” Mary said, because she hadn’t realized, too busy with her own work.
“Right? It’s great. I know I look great on paper. I’m the girl behind the scenes and I love that. I just want to be left alone to write and research.” Judy smiled briefly. “I told Bennie she should think of me as her brain-in-a-jar. That’s my niche.”
“But I don’t attract that kind of work. That’s the problem, right?”
“It kind of is.” Judy heaved a big sigh, then slumped against the wooden back of the bench. “I love what I do and I don’t want to stop. And I know you love what you do, and believe me, I don’t think one type of practice is better than the other—”
“—I know—”
“—I’m not a legal snob—”
“—I know you’re not, it’s not that—”
“Not at all.” Judy’s lower lip buckled. “But I don’t know if I should go with you, if you leave. You also work more hours than I do and you have to go at a moment’s notice, like you’re on call all the time. I like my own schedule and I want time to paint—and guess what, I didn’t even get to tell you, I bought a loom.”
“A loom, like, for weaving things?” Mary smiled. Judy was so cute, always finding new things to do, like weaving things that you could buy already woven.
“Exactly, it’s so much fun! There’s so much to learn. It comes next week. The only bad thing is it’s going to take up my whole bedroom. I’m never going to get another boyfriend. I don’t have room for sex.”
“So weave something. A blanket.”
“A sex blanket!”
Mary smiled. “Or do it standing up.”
“Whoa, Mare!” Judy’s eyes flared in fake shock. “You’re married.”
“Hey, it happens.”
“How often?”
“Once, until I fell down,” Mary admitted, and they both laughed.
Judy’s smile faded. “So I don’t know if I’d be happy doing what you do. I don’t know if I should come with you, if you go. Are you going?”
“I think so,” Mary had to admit, though she couldn’t believe it herself.
“Oh no.” Judy’s eyes glistened. “I’m not crying.”
“Don’t, or I will. We’re still friends, that’s the key thing. We can still see each other every day.”
“Right.” Judy wiped her eyes, flushing under her fair skin.
“Probably more than we do now. We’ll make a point of it. Lunch, right here, like always.”
“Totally.” Judy nodded. “They say that after a divorce, the dad sees the kid more.”
“Right.” Mary forced a smile because Judy was trying to cheer them both up. “And you can always come with me, but no pressure.”
“I know, thanks. I can always come with you, but I have to think about it. Can I think about it?”
“Of course.” Mary felt heartbroken, and it was even worse to know that she had nobody but herself to blame. She was breaking her own heart. And Judy’s.
Suddenly Mary’s cell phone pinged with an incoming text, and she pulled it out of her bag and checked the screen. The text was from Simon, and it read: Can you come to the hospital? No emergency but ASAP.
Mary rose instantly. “I’d better go,” she said, concerned.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bennie lowered the car window, traveling the winding roads through the proverbial rolling hills of Pennsylvania, which really existed, dense with woods and underbrush this time of year. She’d texted Declan that she was driving out to see him, and he’d texted her back a heart emoji because he’d turned into a big mushball, which she secretly loved.
Wind blew through the open window, messing up her hair and buffeting her eardrums, a not-entirely-pleasant sensation, but at least it was fresh air. It felt good to be outside in summer, not boxed in, climate-controlled, bounded by concrete and skyscrapers. She realized she hadn’t had a vacation in years, and there were plenty of days at work when she never felt the sun, at either end of the day. Now it warmed the skin of her left forearm, resting on the side of the car, and she had to put down her visor, even with sunglasses.
She inhaled a lungful and smelled the heavy sweetness of wild honeysuckle mounded by the roadside, then brush roses that bordered people’s front yards as she passed through one small town after the next, each with colonial clapboard houses set right at the curbside, having been constructed in an era when the only thing on the road was a horse and buggy.
An hour passed, and Bennie reached Voxburg, a former mining town that held a post office, a middle school, a medium-sized office park, and an enclave of old and new homes, including the converted Victorian in which Declan rented the first floor for his law firm. It was on the far side of town, set at the top of the hill, and she pulled off the road onto its gravel driveway and traveled upward, catching sight of the place, which was lovely.
The house was a true Painted Lady, three stories of crisp white clapboard, navy-blue curlicue trim on its eaves, and a slate roof with a pointed turret in one corner, which Declan took for his own office. Bennie’s favorite feature of the house was its magnificent wraparound porch, with an old-fashioned porch swing. She reached the end of the driveway, parked next to a few other cars belonging to the dental offices on the other floors, then cut the ignition.